


Michael & Naomi

by LisaFQueen



Category: My own creation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaFQueen/pseuds/LisaFQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Naomi gets kidnapped she thinks she can trust Michael.<br/>Wether this is true or not she'll have to find out herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions are scarier than        answers

"It's not wise to let someone know your name. It's bad. Very bad."  
He stopped and stared for a moment. He watched how she reacted. How she struggeled. In fact, he enjoyed it. He just loved to play with his food.  
"Listen. Listen very carefully. If you don't succeed at this project, I'll have to kill you.  
I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Such a waste.  
So please, be good. Or actually," he raised his hand. All of his movements were extremely controlled. He knew exactly what to do, where to puts his hands so that she would listen.  
"be bad. I'm going to ask you some questions. And you answer. Understood?"  
She looked up. Her dark hair was hanging around her pretty face. Her lips were red, merely from the blood. But he had taken care of her face. There was no blood on it anymore. She had a bruce on her cheek. Her eyes were blue green and there was fire in them. She had the fire to fight back, but she didn't. She didn't want to. Not anymore.  
"Do you understand?" he asked. He raised his voice.  
"Yes." Her voice sounded weak and exhausted. She didn't look away but she looked at his eyes. They were dark blue. She stared a while at them. Then she saw something. Something dark and sinister. She saw that he enjoyed it. This thing between them. Whatever it was.  
"Good. Do you know who I am? Hmm?"  
"No. How would I know?" At this answer his face turned serious. Every spark in his eyes was taken out. It was replaced with rawness. That killer look.  
It was then that she realised he turned her on. In a way. She examined her captioner. He was standing there, 3 meters away. With a black jeans and a white shirt that accented his body. He was a little sweaty but she didn't notice.  
"Do you know why you're here?"  
After a pause she shook her head. He instantly responded with his body language. He likked his lips and walked slowly to the table. It was too dark for her to see what was on the table, but as he stood with his back to her and picked it up she knew exactly what it was. She would've recognised that sound blindfolded under water in a tank. Then he turned to her and loaded the gun. He gently held it in his right hand and took a step closer.  
"Do you want me to tell you?"  
"I want you to free me." Her voice sounded fierce. He grinnend and the sparks in his eyes were back.  
"I will. After I'm done with you. But for now, you're gonna be a good girl and answer my questions.  
Why do you think you're here?"  
You want to play, I can play, she thought curiously.  
"Because I bought drugs from Channing Tatum and now I can't pay the bill so now you're throwing me in prostitution."  
He smiled. He had wrinkles around his eyes en his mouth.  
"You must think you're funny." In an instant his smile was gone and now he was lightly irritated. At least, that's what she thought. And hoped.  
He walked up to her. He made himself look large. As she looked up she felt the gun in her waist. Then he raised her chin with his finger. And he shook his head.  
"Sweety, this really isn't a game."  
His voice sounded sweet and tender. The girl fell for it. He saw it.  
She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had his orders.  
Ask the right questions, get the right answers. Get the wrong answers, kill the girl.  
"Tell me why you're here." he said as he examined her eyes carefully. "Jee, let me think. Uhmmm... oh that's right! You kidnapped me!"  
"Shh, don't get angry with me." Gently he stroke her cheek.  
"I don't know why!" she turned her head away.  
"Take a guess."  
He took his hand off her and took a step back. She saw he waited for a serious answer. She thought briefly and took a breath.  
"I guess someone wants me to do something. I need to be used for something. I don't know what. I don't know why. But I know that someone approved me. Otherwise I would be dead already."  
He nodded.  
"Good guess. Unfortunately, that's bad for you." The girl looked a little unsetteled. "What do you mean?"  
"Now I have to ask more questions."  
"What's so bad about that?" she asked.  
"Believe me, questions are scarier than answers."  
Slowley he reached out to her and put his hand on her neck. She felt that she was drifting away. Further and further away from the dark blue eyes, deeper and deeper in a long sleep.


	2. done with it

"Michael! For God's sake! Why didn't you shoot her?" It was Michaels boss. They hated each other. But the boss needed Michael and Michael needed the money.  
"She gave the right answer."  
"Where's she now?"  
"Still in the room. I want some time with her. Alone. So don't go eavesdropping." His boss looked at him like he was crazy. Then he poked Michaels chest. "Listen up hotshot, if you tell her anything, and I mean ANYTHING, you're dead. You know that, right?"  
"Yeah yeah, you'll hang me, cut my throat et cetera. I just want to check if I can get anything else out of her. She's the bravest subject we've had in years."   
The boss digged it and let him free. When he turned his back Michael made a face. Relax grandpa, I'm just going to check on her, he thought.  
As he walked in the room he noticed the girl had woken up. She looked horrible, but he saw willpower in her eyes.   
"Goodmorning sunshine!" She had been watching him since he walked in the room and she thought his expression had changed. She grinned. "Normally we say that in the morning, not the evening." Her voice was sarcastic. She was so done. With all of this. Getting kidnapped, getting beaten up, getting interogated...  
"Naomi, Naomi." He smiled. "If I were you I'd be friendly to the guy who decides whether you get out or not."   
She shook her head and looked up. Her hair was wild and fitted perfectly in the picture. She laughed. She looked like she had gone crazy. But she hadn't. "Ohho, you're not the guy who decides where I go. If you were you'd play more with your food. Create tension. The feeling of loneliness, desperation, fighting back is hopeless. You'd want to break me. No, you're not mister big boss here. You" she accented like she was pointing at him, "are just the messenger, the executer." Michael was fascinated by how much confident she had. But at no cost he would let that show. She can't know.  
"So now you think you've got it all worked out. Right. Let's start over. My name is Kai and you are Naomi. Nice meeting you." he said with a genuine smile. "Likewise, I'm sure." Sarcasticly she raised an eyebrow. "You're pathetic, you know. Hiding behind a codename."  
"I think we're gonna be the best of friends." He said with a wink.   
"Yeah whatever, just untie me will ya, my hands hurt."  
"Sure. If you promise to keep your hands of me aka try not to hit me. Oh that's right, I'm sorry about that earlier."   
Michael stepped forward and when he stood behind her he asked: "Do you know what we do here?" She turned her head to the side and thought. "I don't."  
"Good." Then he untied her and she caught herself feeling happy when his hands touched hers.  
"Come with me." He opened the door for her and led her away.


	3. prisoner

The hallway was cold. Most of the things were made of metal and colored black or grey. The door, the tables that were behind the glass windows, the floor, the walls. Even the lamp was behind bars. It was a white light that expressed how sad this part of the building was. It was no surprise though, as this was the place where the decission was made. Do they live or will they die?  
Often there came prisinors who were mistreated, mentally exhausted and whose will to live was sucked out of their soul. They only came out of the rooms to go to another one, where the horrors continued.  
When Naomi walked down the hallway, she could almost feel the pain of her predecessors. She looked through the many windows but all she could see was a chair, and sometimes a metally, cold and bare table. They were all empty. Except for one.  
What she saw was the next thing: there was a person sitting on a chair. But the chair was not just a regular chair. There were a bunch of wires attached to it, one end was taped to the person and the other one to a buzzer. Naomi followed the wires with her eyes and she realized in great horror that this was an electrical chair. The person was full of bruises and the hair was shaved down. This, combined with the fact that the person was covered in bruises and blood really badly made it impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman. He or she could barely keep her or his bloodshot eyes open. He/she wore a hoodie and a torn jeans. There was no one else in the room. Naomi knew exactly why. It was to trigger the feeling of being beaten. Game over. Most people fall for this, but she knew that no matter what, the enterogater must always come back. Wether it is to get more information, torture or put the person in a body bag, they will come back.  
Eventually they had reached the door that led to another department. When Michael openend the door cold wind stroke Naomi's hair and allowed her to fill her lungs with fresh air. She had been right, it was evening. Naomi saw that the moon was orange and shone on Michael's fine cheekbone. Out of the corner of her eye she checked him out. He didn't seem nervous, though something told her he was. Maybe it was the dense light of the big lantarns that reached as high as the iron hence.   
She saw military vans, guns, zelts, doghouses... She didn't really know what to think of it. Had she passed a test? Would she be used by a secret service as spy? Or was she trapped in an eternal experiment from the US army? Would whe ever reach home again? If there still was a home to come to for her. After her dad was brutally killed by an assassin she didn't know where to go to. Maybe that was it, she would be in an organisation of assassins.   
"Are you afraid?" she heard Michael ask. She didn't even have to think for a minute. "No."   
Michael smiled cruelly. "You should be." His voice was cold. Like he had to hide something. "This way."  
After another 50 meters of military grounds they had reached something that looked like a bungalow.  
She stepped in, Michael followed. "This is where you will live from now on. You do as you please, as long as you listen to us and do what I ask. That's all you need to know for now." He paused to let it sink in. Naomi looked a bit bored as she inspected the light green walls. There was a round table and a two chairs. There was a bed, which she doubted if it was large enough for her. She was a restless sleeper and wooled all night. Then there was a door which led to the bathroom. Next to that door was a little kitchen.   
"I don't like it." she replied. "Too bad. It's the best I can give you."  
She turned and looked at him with stars in her eyes. "I doubt it."


End file.
